


Love in a Small Package

by Attorney C (arh581958)



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic, Getting Together, Harvey isn't, Kid Fic, M/M, Mike is good with kids, Pining, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 05:51:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4992736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Attorney%20C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harvey doesn't show up to work, Mike spares no time rushing to his apartment to find out what's wrong. It's not what he expected at all--Harvey rumpled, and messy, and sweaty with a kid attached to his hip. </p><p>Or where Harvey is forced to babysit and he forces Mike to do it for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love in a Small Package

**Author's Note:**

> It's only working title. I'll change it when I can think of something more appropriate.

Mike arrives at exactly seven o-clock in the morning, on the dot, feeling chipper as chipper can be. They closed a huge case over the weekend and, in the first time in months, has an _actual_ weekend for a change. Meaning, Mike spent the better part of two days either asleep, doing his laundry, or fluffing out his shoebox apartment because, contrary to popular belief, it gathered dust when left unoccupied for long period of time. He also had a productive weekend, airing out his less-than-innocent urges. Which is why he was practically bouncing in infectious energy when he went to the office this morning.

"Good morning, oh great omniscient, Donna" he greets with an ear-to-ear smile. "Accept my humble offerings." he says, balancing the largest looking takeaway coffee tumbler on the top her cubicle divider. She stand up, at attention, eyes skimming over the hot cup.

"You were one word short from calling me a God" she points out but still doesn't take the cup. She raises an eyebrow and stares him down. "Tres-leches, dark chocolate, double-fat latte?" It's clearly a testament to how far their relationship has progressed from annoying associate to loyal comrade.

"One pump of peppermint and two pumps of vanilla" he barters back. " _And_ Katrina's secret recipe for chocolate chip cookies."

Her eyes brighten then narrow. "Mike" she starts "What did you do and why do you have a bag of Katrina's cookies?"

Mike shuffles his feet and avoid her eyes. "I don't know what you mean." he concedes. She gives him a look and takes the coffee but leaves the cookies. ' _I'm watching my figure_ ' she mouths. "Is Harvey in yet?" he asks, peering at the abnormally empty room.

"He's not coming to the office today" she tells him like it was something unimportant. He stares at her blankly.

"Bu-t we have Donohue briefs for tomorrow. Donohue is Harvey's client." he says, confused. "Did something happen? Is Harvey okay? Is there anything I can do to hel---"

But Donna raises her hand, cutting him off. "Wait" she instructs, tapping a few keys on her computer before her printer comes to life. "I said he's not coming to the office but that doesn't mean he's not working. Haven't you learned that yet, puppy?" she asks without bothering to wait for his answer. "Here's the list of the research he needs for the case. You better get to work. He wants them brought to the condo before lunch." she hands him a two-page print out of materials he needed to dig up in the library like it was nothing.

Mike groans inwardly. So much for starting a wonderful week. He takes the file and slips it into his messenger bag with a huff. "Right. Jedi Masters never rest. Got it." he mumbles under his breath.

"You've done well young padawan!" Donna yells after him.

Mike decides to skip the bullpen and head straight for the Pearson Specter library for his task. It was much safer, he decides, to be down here hiding from Louis and his pompous ego-stroking requests rather than in the pen where it was basically a free for all. Maybe if he was lucky, he'd finish early and manage to grab lunch that wasn't corner-stand hotdog or bagel. He was wrong. Despite being completely alone in the file room, he was buried in a file-hunting expedition that was large enough to merit to people.

He groaned when he stomach tumbled in protest. He glanced down at his watch, eyeing the time dangerously close to lunch. He wouldn't have time and he, resolutely, did not want to be on the wrong-side of Harvey's anger so early in the week. He had seven more days before he can completely fuck-up. He frowns over the large brown file boxes that contained the materials he researched. He wouldn't be able to carry it all on his bike. Harvey was so going to pay for a cab.

Mike arrives just a little after twelve. He's been to Harvey's apartment on numerous occasions, at various parts of the day, with or without Harvey's company. The door man just gives him a friendly nod and helps Mike carry the second box when he struggles to punch in the access code to floor elevator. He gives the man a wry smile and a salute before the close in front of his face. He has to half-carry and half-drag the boxes to the end of the hall. He rings the bell and waits.

The sight that greets him is unlike anything that he has ever expected. Harvey is in a part of loose, falling-off-his-hips sweat pants and a dark black wife beater looking every bit like he just came from his morning job without having the time nor energy to change. He, at least, managed to strip out of his windbreaker which was lying carelessly on the hallway in perfect view of the front door. But what really struck out, and Mike should have noticed such an obvious thing sooner, was the pudgy baby boy attached to Harvey's hip.

"Mike" Harvey says, sounding surprised. He readjusted his hold on the child because, clearly, it was not a common occurrence for him too. "You're already here." he notes. There's a tired timbre to his voice and a sense of hopelessness. Bags are under his eyes, his hair was not pristinely gelled, and Mike can see the sweat marks on his shirt. Harvey pointing out the obvious was a statement to how rattled he really was.

"I am" Mike confirm, feeling awkward to see Harvey in such a mess. "Can I... you know... go in? I brought the Donohue materials from the office. Donna said that you need them. Do you, uhm, mind?"

Harvey moved to the side wordlessly. The child in his arms starts to fidget.

"I didn't peg you as a fatherly type." Mike says, trying to lift the heavy tension in the air. A frazzled Harvey was not a good Harvey. He's been so used to seeing his boss' cool and impenetrably calm composure that he feels like he's stepping landmines when it talking to the man in front of him. It's like anything he says can and will be used against him in the court of law.

Harvey doesn't quip back. "Nathan Specter. My brother dropped him off this morning without bothering with an explanation."  he says, and waves it off with a dismissive gesture.

"and you let him go?" Mike pipes before he can stop himself.

Harvey looks away. "He's my brother" that's all he says before carrying the toddler, no older than two, into the living room. "Come on, rookie, let's get to work." he sounds tired as he says it, lacking the usual Harvey Specter dramatics and bravado that he normally shows his clients.

Mike nods dumbly and follows him down the hall. He settles the boxes into the small cramped study that Harvey maintain just for kicks. Mike knows, as well as Donna, that Harvey almost never uses it except for when he's feeling adventurous with a lay and gets into the whole _I-am-a-badass-lawyer_ power-dynamics play. Mike shivers just thinking about it. Just how many women has Harvey slept with and pounded into the large mahogany desk in his home office. He shakes his head.

A frantic wail erupts from the living room.

Mike rushes back to the living room. "What happened?" he pants, eyes scanning the room until he finds his boss frantically trying to calm a hysterical baby. But the man doesn't seem to hear him. "Harvey" he tries again, louder this time, and the man turns to face him.

"He's been restless since he got here. Kid won't keep still even if I tell him too" Harvey says, complaining, then he takes one good long took at Mike with pleading eyes. Without the facade, the waistcoat, the jacket, and his combed-back hair, Harvey looks every bit like a first-time father who had no clue about how to handle children.

Mike sighs and steps up beside him. "Give him here" he says, beckoning the child into his arms. "Don't you have a younger brother? I would have thought that you would be good at this sort of thing." he gathers Nathan until the kid rests nicely on his side, one arm under the child for support. He pats the diaper--dry--and pats the kid's back--he burps and settles down. Then he walks back to Harvey and passes him back the kid.

"Marcus was born when I was two. I don't remember much aside from him being a little brat who I got to order around." Harvey confesses. He melts into the sofa, uncaring for all the world that his sweat-stained shirt was touching his white leather, and tips his head back. He closes his eyes, lifting one hand to massage his temple. "This is why I'm careful never to get a kid. I'm not a good fit to be a parent--long hours, erratic work schedule, not to mention I can't bring home as many women as I'd like."

The corner's of Mike's lips twitch as a faintest humour seeps into Harvey's tone. "You look like shit and in a while you'll smell like shit" he says light-hearted. "And I am starving. I'll go make some lunch then we can put that little monster down for naptime." he decides without bothering to ask permission. He tugs off his jacket, unbuttons his cuffs, and fold his up his sleeves. He goes into the kitchen, draping his jacket over the back of an island counter chair, and tucks his necktie into his breast pocket.

He's not necessarily a good cook but he was once a broke-ass college student even if he got kicked out for selling a math test. He learned a few tricks during his stay. One of them was learning how to make something edible without the luxuries of a fully functional kitchen. The things he can make with recycled tin-cans and a laundry iron when it was clutch-time. He hummed lightly to himself while he cooked. It was one of the few things that got his mind to _stop_ over-thinking.

***

Harvey Specter had a good great weekend spent playing, and winning, high-stakes million dollar per buy-in poker, and spending the entire Sunday afternoon reliving the one thousand and one reasons why it was great to be Harvey Specter with a gorgeous blonde woman who he took home when he won in poker. He sent her home before dinner because no one, absolutely no one, spent more than one night in his apartment. It was shaping up to be the start of a wonderful week of legal battles, litigation, and the entire New York ocean was his playground. It was, up until, he arrives home after a short three-mile run and sees a someone sitting in his living room sofa.

"Marcus?" he says into the shadows of his apartment and the figure moves, startled.

"Harvey" the man responds but does not more.

"What are you going here?" _You shouldn't be here_ goes unsaid. Harvey moves further into the space and something shifts in the low light. "Marcus, what did you do?" he asks, flicking the lamp open. His eyes widen when he sees the small, sleeping bundle, drooling on his expensive Egyptian cotton pillows. "A baby?"

"Nothing. Nothing, I swear." Marcus looks up at him with pleading eyes. "Listen, Harvey. I need you to keep Nathan for a few days while I lie low." he says with a frown. Harvey doesn't say anything but the disbelief is written all over his face even without a word. He crosses his arms over his chest, windbreaker stretching over his biceps.  

"He's a child, Marcus, not a dog. I cannot just _keep_ him here." Harvey counters.

"Please, Harvey, you know that things got bad when dad died but I have never asked you for anything since we were kids." Marcus stands up, almost ready to fall on his knees at any given moment. If their father had raised Harvey to be a lesser man, he would have thrown his brother out the moment he arrived. But Gordon Specter, despite their mother's infidelity, was a good man and Harvey would like to believe that he was one as well.

"Okay. Fine." Harvey sighs and runs his palms over his face. Then he brings up his hand. "I have no idea what mess you've gotten yourself into but I don't think I _want_ to know what this is about. You've got a day then I'm turning him over to child services and suing you for parental negligence. And is he ruins those pillows, I'm expecting compensation." He says and Marcus beams at him.

His younger brother reaches out, crushing him in an air-tight two-arm hug, and pats him on the back hard enough to rattles his internal organs. Harvey cannot suppress his disgruntled groan. "A day" he repeats to the younger Specter who acknowledges him with a curt nod.

"Thanks big brother" Marcus tells him. "There's a bag of his things at the end of the sofa. He's not a bad kid once he warms up to you. And hey, you look like me, so he won't be too unfriendly towards you. I brought some of his clothes too but didn't have time to pack his toys... I should go. I'll see you tomorrow to take him back." then he disappears out of the apartment.

"Okay, kid" Harvey says over the sleeping form on the cushion. "You and me are going to breeze through today. Then I will return you to your father and we can both forget that this day happened." he rubs his hands and gets ready for a shower. "After all, I babysat your dad, I can baby sit you. It's going to easy. Like a piece of cake. Then I'll eat it too." He mumbles to himself as he walks away. But of course, Nathan decides that it was time to wake up and explode in and ear-shrieking wail.

Two hours later, and an hour after he was supposed to be at work because Harvey arrives at the office earlier than everyone else so he can rub it in their faces, he calls Donna and tells her that he _won't_ be coming into the office but he _won't_ be taking a day off. He admits it to himself that he has forgotten how to care for a toddler, and it serves as a reminder why he doesn't date married women. Kids, he's not good with kids because sharks kill their siblings in the womb.

He is elbow-deep, literally, in baby-snot and he hasn't even had to chance to chance out of his gym clothes before Marcus had dropped Nathan off. Then, like a miraculous angel, Mike Ross appears in his doorway at lunch time with boxes loaded with photo-copied case files and saves him from the nightmare that is _baby-wailing-for-no-apparent-reason_. Mike shushes Nathan like a pro, bumping the kid before returning him to Harvey, then saunters off into the kitchen to cook.

Harvey groan. This is, apparently, his life now; thirty-six, partner-less, and clueless about the ways to raise a child. He's depended on his much younger associate, who apparently, knows how to cook as well. While he is already well-aware of the odd co-dependency thing he's had with Mike since day one, _this_ takes their unique relationship to a whole new level: domestic, something that's he has never thought of being comfortable sharing with anyone before. Yet here he was, waiting for Mike to cook him lunch.

A rich and buttery scent permeates from the kitchen. He's mouth goes dry when he takes a whiff of the meal that Mike is preparing in the kitchen. Nathan has fallen asleep against him, mouth openly drooling on his sweat-stained shirt. He think he'll have to burn it before it get back to the way it was. But then again, he had the condo in-house service to take care of that. He'll leave it in the hamper. He stands up, struggling to maintain his balance with Nathan's additional weight, and moved goes to the guest bedroom. Putting a baby in seminally coated sheets makes him nauseous at the thought alone.

"Harvey" he hears Mike call from the kitchen. Harvey re-arranges the pillows in a fort-like barrier around the bed so Nathan doesn't fall off accidentally. It's a modest space compared to his extravagant bedroom, enough for guests to feel welcome but not comfortable enough that they would stay longer than he wanted them to. It was rarely used but the beddings were changed periodically by the housekeeping staff.

"Yeah?" he yells, jogging back out and leaving the guestroom door open. He was already reaching down to pull his sodden wife beater off but stopped dead in his tracks. On his dining room table was a large pile of homemade, he was absolutely positive that he didn't have pre-mixed carton batter, waffles and the crispiest golden brown chicken wings. Mike should be looking ridiculous with his rolled-up sleeves, pocket-tucked tie, and Harvey's barely used kitchen apron that said 'Kiss the Cook'. His associate's appearance should not be endearing but he found that it, strangely, was.

"I have chicken?" he asks dumbly but no sooner waves his hand to dismiss it. He lets go of his shirt but forgets to tug it back down, revealing a large expanse of skin on his stomach exposed. His mouth was already watering at the smell alone but the visual had him practically drooling. "Wow, Mike, this looks amazing."

Mike's grinning like an idiot when he takes a seat beside Harvey. "Did I just hear my hardass boss give little ol' me a compliment?" he teases, battling his eyelashes in a flirtatious display. "One would think lil' ol' me deserved to be bedded before you can go askin' me for yer breakfast" he continues with a faux-southern accent that was completely and utterly horrible on him.

Harvey smiles into his first forkful of waffle. "What movies is that from?"

"No movie. It's from a book." Mike replies, too quickly.

"Book, hmm" Harvey plays along. The waffle is still warm and airy, with the outer coating providing the perfect crunch inside his mouth. It's a little bit on the sweet-side but Harvey's never denies having a sweet tooth. Then he takes a piece of chicken wing, dipping it in gravy, and takes a large bite. The oil and juices flood into his mouth, escaping the corner of his lips. It's perfectly savoury with the outer skin a bit too salty when combined with the gravy. "Gravy is a bit salty" he mumbled over the white meat.

"Yeah" Mike sounds off, nonchalantly. "You try make it from scratch, Mr. _I-can-make-gravy_. Then you can nag me about how to make proper gravy salt ratios." He sticks a gravy sodden piece of chicken in Harvey's direction, the thick substance holds and does not drip on the table. He takes in into his mouth, licking his lips at the residue.

"So which book?" Harvey questions. "And pass me the butter."

Mike raises and eyebrow but plucks the small round container from the counter. "Okay. I lied. No book. I made it up." he confesses, sliding the butter on the table. "Here." he looks over at Harvey sceptically. "You're eating back all the fats you burned with your jogging. You know that, right?"

Harvey shrugs. "Tell that to the cook responsible for this heart-attack breakfast and I might reconsider my poor lifestyle choices." He peels back the lip and lays a liberal amount of bitter on his waffle before drowning it in maple syrup.

"I did my best with what you had. Be thankful I didn't cost you twenty dollar for pizza." Mike says over mouthfuls of chicken and waffles. Pizza would have taken too long. Did you know that there was an accident in 32nd? No way that the pizza'll get here in less than an hour. I was starving when I got here. And you didn't look any better off. So you can't judge my food."

"Says the man who raided my kitchen."

"Says the man who's eating my subpar cooking."

"Touché" Harvey concedes. The entire morning shifting from shit-storm to utterly domestic within minutes. Come to think of it, he's never had a homemade meal with Mike unless it consisted of frozen pizza or microwave reheated leftovers from their office takeaway. He finds that he does not mind as much as he initially thought he would. And the kid's cooking wasn't half bad, not that he'll ever say that aloud.

"So what's the story of the kid in the bedroom?" There it is in true Harvey-likeness, Mike cuts straight to the point of the matter.

"Like I  said, he's my brother's kid." Harvey replies, wanting it to be the end of it. But Mike just stares and waves his hand with an _on-with-it_ gesture. "Marcus said that he needs to do something and, god forbid, he ask mom for help. So he took his kid here. I didn't even know that he _had_ a wife, let alone a kid." he chuckles. "Blind-sided by my own kin, I should have known." he says bitterly.

"Sounds like you weren't close."

Harvey moves his head from side to side. "We were close once but no. Not after dad died years ago. The was the last time I saw him. We drifted apart. He's..."

"...the black sheep of the family." Mike ends without hesitation. He says it simply like his words had no implication. Without, necessarily, demeaning Marcus' state in life. He said it like he was just stating a fact or reading statistics. Not at all like he meant to hurt the other man's pride. "Don't look surprised. You're the successful older brother so I put two and two together. It doesn't take a genius, Harvey, to know that your brother's like me."

Ahh, there it was. Harvey frowns. "You aren't like him, Mike."

"It's alright, Harvey. You don't have to lie." Mike scoffs in an attempt to laugh it off. "I guess I should probably thank him, right? Because I sort of resembled him and that's why you pulled me out of the gutter and kept me around the firm?" He is smiling but his eyes were filled with sadness that he tries so desperately to hide.

"I keep our around because of that big brain of yours, nothing more and nothing less." Harvey hisses. Hand clutching the silverware in a white-knuckled grip. "Will you stop being sorry for yourself? It's already been a year since I got you as an associate and you've managed to kick every single harvard-ass  we have straight to the curb. You're an invaluable asset in the firm with or without a law degree. And this is the last time we're talking about this."

Mike nods mutely. "Okay."

"Oka---y?" Harvey presses.

"Okay" Mike affirms.

"Good. After this, I want to take a shower before I stink up my whole apartment. Then we'll hit the boxes to dig up what we can on the Donohue case." Harvey declares, leaving no room for complaint. They finish up their meal. Mike takes care of the dishes and the leftover so Harvey can goes straight to the bathroom for his well-deserved shower.

***

Mike tries and fails not to think about his naked boss when the sound of water seeps through the bathroom door. He was surprised when Harvey did not go straight to his bedroom to rinse away the sweat. Instead, he went to the common bathroom along the corridor. He blushes when he realizes that he was just thinking about his very fit, very naked, very male boss who had no inclination for homosexual relations and neither did he! He was a woman lover, with an occasional drunken rendezvous at the back alley of an Irish pub. He blames the Irish beer.

He's defrosted enough pizzas and reheated enough takeaway to know his way around Harvey's lavish kitchen. It's a large open layout with a island counter that double as a breakfast nook to entertain while one cooks. Not that Harvey ever cooks, except breakfast. But how hard can breakfast be? He's no stranger to a refrigerator filled with nothing but beer, bacon, and eggs because it's the perfect combination for a well-balanced breakfast.

He stuffs the leftover waffles in a plastic container and throws away the chicken bones. Combined, they  ate move than half a dozen wings. He forewent counting them and chose to dump them into the biodegradable materials in one go. One the alms were scrapped off, he moved shoved his sleeves higher and began to fill in the sink with soapy water. Harvey had one of those spray-thing on the faucet and he was secretly looking forward to using it.

"What are you doing?" Harvey's voice startled him out of his thoughts. Mike jumps around. If his boss' earlier displays of skin was not torture enough, Harvey was leaning against the doorframe in his half-naked glory with only a towel barely clinging onto his hips. He was massaging a smaller towel into his hair, which was dripping delectable droplets of water down his chest, over his pectorals, and nipples, and onto the cut muscles of his abs, and-- "Mike?"

"H--Harvey!" Mike starts, trying his best not to sound like he was just fantasizing over what went _under_ the towel. "I was just washing the dishes while waiting for you to finish your shower."

Harvey gives him a smirk. "You may hold the world record for speed reading but washing dishes takes you forever?"

Mike turns away, biting his lips. "I put away the leftovers too, you know. I had to rummage through the cupboard for a container for the waffles. I was just starting with the dishes."

"Mike" Harvey cuts through his thoughts. "You do know that I have a dishwasher, right? Why are you doing them in the sink?"

In his moment of weakness, Mike utterly has forgotten about the dishwasher that Havery had installed a few months ago. He didn't even but the thing. Their firm helped mitigate some labour charges for the manufacturer's company and BOOM, the thing was delivered the following week. He's only used it once or twice in the past. Pizza boxes do not warrant any clean-up expect fold-and-dump.

"R-right" Mike stutters. He gathers the dishes, opens the sink drain, and dutifully transfers the dishes into the large appliance. "Sh--shouldn't you be getting dressed? What is this a stip-show or an assignment. I've already gone past my lunch hour. Louis is going to bark about my billable again if I don't go back to the office. You know enjoys making my life terrible just because I'm, apparently, a mini-you."

Harvey chuckles. "That's a high compliment. I'll give Jessica a call that I have you on-call at my apartment. It shouldn't be a problem." He says, turning back. "And Mike" he says off-handed. "I own your ass, not Louis. Don't give me the Litt-up excuse again." and walks away.

"Did you know that he got that trademarked?" he calls out.

"Yeappp!" comes Harvey's reply from far away. Mike decisively does not pay attention to the way his hands are shaking as he puts away the plates. He blames it on the red bull.

They eventually migrate back into the living room. Harvey's study is only half the size of his office at the firm and it was a challenge to fit two people comfortably for _real_ work. Mike understands the appeal of dark wooden shelves lined with law book and the big imposing desk in the middle of the room. He's has the thought once or twice in the office but never with Harvey as a participant. Now, he's mind is playing with him. Because for reasons unknown to him, he's fond of the imperfect Harvey Specter who is so off his game that it's obvious.

Sniffling comes from the guest bedroom.

"Y--you better get him" Mike tells Harvey, customary highlighter cap between his teeth. He's scanning one of the Donohue's earlier contract with their suppliers. The same supplier that were suing them for by-passing the in-house bidding process for their customer billing. He was riding on Harvey's _follow-the-money_ plan and see where it gets them. He does not even spare Harvey a glance. He listens to Harvey's fading footsteps and wait for the same heavy steps to come back.

Nathan was in full-fledge crying when Harvey comes back. "Mike, help me with him, won't you. I just took a shower and he's getting baby-sot all over my t-shirt." Harvey complains. He does not wait for Mike to consider. Instead, he carefully places the crying toddler in the cradle of Mike's crossed legs where he sits on the floor beside the coffee table.

"Harvey!" he protests, pulling up the file just in time to save it from Nathan's drool. "Take the file and I'll take the baby." he says, listing it up for Harvey to take. Then he rearranges the toddler in his arms. "And my clothes aren't worth saving?" he grumbles. "I'm a law firm associate not a personal nanny. Why don't you just get one instead? It'll be easier for everyone and I can be continue to be efficient in my current job. And before you make a Mary Poppins joke, I'll say this now, you can't afford me."

"Because your RTWs are threadbare and cheap." Harvey shoots back without mercy. "And I can afford you. I already have. I'm a name-partner for the law firm you work in. Technically, I still pay your salary."

Mike frowns. "That's different and you know it. I work for Pearson Specter, not Harvey Specter. I highly doubt that a babysitting job merits enough to pierce the corporate veil." he gently coos the weeping baby to his chest. "Your uncle is a mean man, isn't he? If you weren't such a cutie, I would already be back in the office working my ass off for your uncle's meeting tomorrow. Instead he has me here, in his apartment, because he has no idea how to take care of children, doesn't he?"

Harvey crosses his arms and smirks at the younger man. "You can't say ass to a child, Mike, it's improper."

Mike makes bubbly faces into Nathan's stomach and says "And you don't get to have a say because you" he's cut by the child's fit of laughter "have no _amour_ for the child what so ever. Isn't that right, Natie-nate?"

"Natie-nate?" Harvey grimaces at the name and give mike a questioning raise of his eyebrow.

Mike pays no attention to his sulking boss. "God you're heavy" he says after a few overhead lifts. "What does your father feed you?" then he turns to Harvey and asks "Speaking of which, when was the last time this kid ate?"

Harvey thinks back. "A few minutes before you came. Roughly four hours ago it my best guest."

"Then you better go get him his bottle because he'll be hungry soon."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Harvey. You're my boss in the office but taking care of your estranged brother's child is not within my contract. I can leave you to panic over him at any time. I am not legally obligated to care for him" Mike says firmly, while still managing to be all-smiles at the child. "Do you know how to talk yet, ey, Nathan?"

"Na-tun" the boy repeats.

Mike positively beams. "You smart little boy. Just like your uncle but don't let him hear you say that. He's ego is big enough as it is, you don't want to over inflate it by stroking." He says laughing. "Hello, Nathan, my name is Mike. Can you say Mike?"

"Mah-yi-kuh" the kid enunciates.

"That's good. Can you say it again?" Mike repeat, pointing to himself. "Mike"

"Mah!" Nathan squeals out. "Mah!"

"Am I dada in this senario?" Harvey quips as he returns with a warmed bottle of milk from the kitchen.

Mike glares at him. "Did you test the temperature?"

The older man sighs. "Mike it's mixing hot water with cold water. It's not rocket science."

"Yes but have you dropped some on your skin and watched it turned red?" Mike says in a matter-of-fact tone. He turns to Harry and gets one long look before he is shaking his head. "Here" he offers his exposed forearm. "I'm lighter than you so it'll show easier. Drop some milk on my arm."

Dumbfounded and out of his element, Harvey follows. He encircles Mike's offered wrist in his fingers and carefully drops milk on Mike's pale skin. The associate hisses.

"Jesus, Harvery, burn the kid's tongue why don't you?" He grumbles, yanking his arm away and blowing over the reddened skin. "You should let that bottle cool. He's isn't hungry just yet so we have time." Then he says slyly "and no, you are not dada in this scenario. You're the mean old uncle that the kids hates seeing during Christmas because you're so cranky. Scrooge."

Harvey narrows his eyes. "Watch your mouth rookie, I'm still your boss."

"My boss, Nate's uncle." Mike shrugs the reprimand off. "Poh-tey-toe, poh-tah-toe. What's the difference? You don't pay me enough to take care of your familial affairs too. Isn't that right, Natie-nate? Uncle Harvey should give Mike a raise."

"Mah!" Nathan squeals enthusiastically. "Mah! Mah! Mah!"

"Oh God" Harvey groans, burying his face in his unoccupied hand. "Now he won't shut up!"

Mike laughs at Harvey's pathetic complains. "Sure I can. Give the milk here." he says reaching out of the bottle in Harvey's hand. Harvey hands it over. "Thanks. Are you hungry Natie-nate? Your bottles should be cool by know." Mike sits the child on his lap and taps the bottle until a few drops of warm milk over the inside of his forearm. "There we go, the temperature's perfect now."

He hands the child the bottle, who dutiful latches on the plastic nipple. Mike grins up at Harvey. "See? There we go. He's all quiet now."

Harvey sits down on his couch with an audible exhale. "Mike Ross: Child Whisper~" He declared in false appreciation. "It goes right up the wall next to Donna the Fax Whisperer!"

"And that makes you, what exactly? Harvey the Deal Whispered?" Mike laughs out loud, arranging Nathan until the child is curled on his lap while nursing his bottle. "You sound like an old fart playing poker."

"Poker is a man's game" Harvey defends.

Mike nods absently, making grabby hands for the paper that he was reading earlier. "Because you play the people not the cards. It's just so you to say, Harvey." he says, biting the cap off his highlighter and resuming his work like there wasn't a toddler on his lap. "You should think about what you're going to do tonight when I go home because you will not survive a night without me."

***

Harvey stroll into his bedroom with half the mind to hold his towel before it completely falls off his hips. He had unconsciously gone to the corridor bathroom instead of the private one he had inside his bedroom. It was all he can do to hide his embarrassment from his young associate.  He was surprised with the kid's ability to make an impromptu breakfast and his mysterious child-caring skills. As far as he knows, the kid was an only child. It didn't make sense.

The phone rings as he was pulling on a clean pare of sweats.

"Specter" he says over the phone that he's squishing between his chin and his shoulder.

"Harvey" Donna's voice comes over the receiver. "Jessica has been looking for you. Did you remember to send her an email that you weren't coming to the office today?" she wastes only a seconds before she continues. "You didn't email her, did you? What's going on Harvey? You're normally on your best A-game after the close you did last week. Did you party all weekend? Did you lose in poker? Are you hung over? Is your morning meeting still there?" an audible gasp on the other end of the line. "Did you murder someone on a bet and do you need me to help you hide the body?"

"Donna!" he shouts. "No to everything you said. There's been some complications at the condo."

"You called me this morning meaning you weren't hung over. That also means that you were out for a morning jog which cancels out your morning meeting. And you were excited to get to work which means you won in poker which means you took a girl home but you kicked her out yesterday. _Then_ you forgot to email Jessica which is normally the first thing that you do when you _don't_ have a hooker to distract you _which means---_ " she pauses in a way that Harvey knows is for dramatics. "you're in trouble. How bad is it?"

"Marcus-bad" Harvey confesses. "He came by this morning. He has a kid Donna and I didn't even know." he groans, sitting down half-dressed.

"How old?"

Harvey shrugs but then realizes that she cannot see him. "I don't know two-ish? I'm not really sure. Three looks like it's pushing it. Finals answer is two."

"Oh you poor baby!" She exclaims, sounding so fake that Elvis-impersonators will be put to shame. "Do you need me to come over with Ice Cream? I have a secret stash stowed away at the back of your freezer behind the pizza boxes when I last came over. You remember that day, don't you Harvey? That was when I broke up with---urgh, let's not go there. Now I want Ice Cream."

Harvey chuckles. "No, no. Someone has to hold down the fortress. Mike's already here."

"Harvey!" she says, scandalized. "You cannot let a puppy raise a child!"

"Mr. Peabody will put Mike to shame." Harvey says. "and I highly doubt that Ice Cream is a sufficient meal for a toddler."

"Then in that case, forget that I said anything about my hidden Ice Cream stash." she says and Harvey can practically hear her smiling.

"Too late."

"Harvey Specter, I expect there to be Ice Cream the next time I have a Donna-emergency!" She says. "So what do you want me to tell Jessica?"

Harvey sighs. "Just tell her the truth" he says. "And I maybe prepare something child-friendly for when I come to work tomorrow? I have the Donohue meeting that I can't miss." then the line goes dead. Harvey picks up the shirt he threw on the bed. It was the worn grey shirt from Harvard with the letters half-faded and the once thick cheap cotton already gone soft. He throws in on and goes into the study.

 Mike is sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning against one of the bookshelves. The Donohue boxes are scattered around him, almost taking up the entire floor of the study. Mike's loosened his tie and opened the first two buttons of his shirt. His sleeves are already a lost cost and not amount of dry cleaning will be able to remove those wrinkles. Both his neck and his forearms gleam under the artificial florescent lights. He's obviously perspiring underneath the shirt.

"We can't fit here" Harvey declares, grabbing one of the boxes. It's a lie he tells himself. He's had too many fond memories of his fake home office to have it screwed up by _a real_ case. Win or lose, he will associate this case with this room and he prefers to avoid taking cases with emotional attachment. "Let's move it to the living room. I might develop claustrophobia getting stuck in a place with you." He doesn't have to turn around to know that Mike is pouting behind him.

After a while, Nathan's whimpers reach the living room.  Harvey goes to the guestroom to fetch him. The toddler had managed to twist and turn during his sleep, making a mess of Harvey's pillow and completely annihilating the make-shirt pillow fort with his small fists. He's tossing about, uncomfortable or perhaps seeking something other the soft cotton sheets around him. Harvey leans over the bed and delicately scoops the boy into his arms.

The thought of being a father had never once crossed his mind. Marriage and husbandhood, yes when he believed that Scottie would be the one for him, but never fatherhood. That affair had long sailed past him. He's never had a long stable relationship after Scottie. It's been a series of hook-ups, and one-night stands, and copious amounts of flirting layered with innuendos. In reality, the idea had just not come up to him.

Plus, he's not good with children. Mike on the other hand is a completely different story. Who would have thought that a skinny one-time drug-dealer pot-head would be a natural with taking care of children. He hands Nathan to Mike and the toddler is immediately begins to stop his fretting. It's nothing short of amazing. Again, Harvey is overwhelmed with the feeling of domesticity as he watches Mike put Nathan on his lap while going through the rest of the Donohue documents.

"Why hire a nanny when you're here?" Harvey asks. "I mean, we've got a case to finish and, from the looks of it, we will be burning midnight oil again. I only have the kid until tomorrow and he seems to like you well enough. Why don't you take the job?"

"Are you being serious, Harvey?" Mike looks at him like he has grown another head. "You want me to stay the night so I can take care of you unwanted baby? Do you want me to warm your bed as well?" He scoffs. "I may be your lapdog but only in the office."

"I thought you were my friend" Harvey shoots back. He's been saving the friend-card for over three years now. He's never once had to call Mike on it. "Come on, Mike. I am seriously asking. Hiring a nanny takes time and effort. By the time I hire one, Nathan will be long gone with his father. It's unnecessary work and a waste of my time."

Mike chews on his highlighter cap. "You can order Donna to find you a nanny. You've asked more from her before." He points out.

"Yes" Harvey admit "but this is different. She's not overly fond of my brother."

"Ahhh" Mike nods. "You do understand that you're asking me to be your fake-but-awesome number one associate _and_ be your part-time nanny to your nephew, right? That's double the work. Not to mention it destroys any boundary we had between professional and personal. I mean, our relationship isn't exactly orthodox as it is. The bullpen rumour mill already have an on-going bet on when we're going to announce our engagement!"

"What?" Harvey spits out, spilling the coffee he was drinking. "Haven't they heard of _getting to know you_ phase? Urgh. Kids, these days, horny little fuckers."

Mike blushes. "They all think we've been dating since my first year in the office. Even the past-associates still have money in the betting pool."

"Harold?"

"Harold's the one holding the pot of gold. Who do you think started it, Kyle?" Mike laughs. "That homophobic douche wasn't even allowed in on the secret. _Secret_ , remember?"

"Yet the entire bullpen knows about it." Harvey raises.

Mike nods. "A section in HR, you know the one who handles the hiring paperwork and the clerk in-charge of promotion paperwork? And Benjie form IT."

Harvey blinks. "You're not lying, are you?"  

Mike shakes his head. "Nope. You can ask Donna. She's in on the pool too." He says laughing and Harvey is inclined to believe him because who in their right mind will joke about having a same-sex relationship with their direct superior? Mike's made some irrational borderline stupid decisions in his time but he is not crazy. "Hey look, Nathan's finished."

"You should burp him."

Mike give him the stink-eye. "You mean what you forgot to do when he was wailing uncontrollably this morning?"

"Mike..."

"Alright! Alright!" Mike says then puts Nathan against his shoulder, periodically patting the kid's back. "You aren't so bad, aren't you Natie-nate? Mean _old_ uncle Harvey is just being a douche, isn't he?"

"Mike, don't infect the kid with your inferiority."

"Now that's borderline rude." Mike points out.

"I'm sorry if I've offended your delicate sensibi---oh shit, Mike! He's getting sick on you!" Harvey shouts, leaping over the sofa so he can fetch the kitchen paper towels. "Here, here" he says, sticking the big white square on Mike's back like he was contagious. "Don't you dare get puke on my Persian rug. Hurry, go to the bathroom. Tiles are less harder to clean than a rug. Shoo!"

"Oww. Oww!" Mike exclaims. "Okay, I'm going. No need to push me." he yelps, as Harvey pushes him into the bathroom. Nathan gets sick for a period of five minutes. By then, he's spread sick all-over Mike's back and some inside his shirt. Mike groans, pealing the stick mess away from his skin until he's left half-naked inside the bathroom. "Harvey!" he yells through the door. "Pass me some a change of clothes for Nate. Or I'll bring him out covered in puke and let him crawl all over your furniture."

Harvey appears at the door within seconds. "There's no need for such hostile action."

"Thank you, Harvey." Mike replies in a sing-song. He cleans Nathan up and dresses him in a clean shirt and new pyjamas. "There you go Nate, good as new. Let's take you out to uncle Harvey." he says, patting the toddler on the back.

"I thought the _warming my bed_ part was a joke, Mike. Isn't this a little too far?" Harvey tells him when he comes out. He gives Mike a cursory once-over, cataloguing how the younger man's body has grown over the years that they've worked together. Mike isn't as skinny runt as Harvey remembers. His body is lean but compact with muscles. There's even the prominent jut of bone on his hip, pointing straight to---shit. He should not be thinking about next Pearson Specter Partner in that way. It's a different level of wrong. But Mike's flush runs down to his chest and Harvey can't help but play along. "It was a joke, wasn't it?"

"Y--yeah" Mike stammers. "Of course it was. You and me, we're like brother's right?"

Harvey is merely human. He steps up close to Mike until he's but a hair's breath away. "Not _exactly_ like brothers" he clarifies. "You said it yourself, right rookie? You and I, we're _special_." he says before taking Nathan from Mike's arms. "Not get your ass in the shower. Don't pollute my apartment smelling like baby-funk."

***

Mike staggers into the shower in a daze. Harvey was just checking him out. The Harvey _straight like a motherfucking arrow_ Specter was checking him out right before he got shoved into the bathroom. His face is burning by the time he manages to latch the doors closed. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Harvey could not possibly want him, right? He was lean but not skinny and he definitely had none of the usual curves that Harvey likes to flaunt in the office or office-sanction parties. He also wouldn't look good in heels unless he was going to cross-dress---which was, no.

The pile of clothes near the bowl was already beginning to smell. He should have that laundered. Hell, Harvey should pay to have that laundered. It was his nephew that made a mess of Mike's shirt in the first place. Mike grimaces as he feels something sticky cling to the edge of his trousers. Baby-goo had dripped down his back and soiled even his pants. Fuck. What was he going to wear? One of Harvey's roles? And was Harry seriously considering _not_ hiring a nanny? He sighs and takes his well-earned shower. He figures raking up Harvey's water bill will be worth the headache.

Mike decides that, fuck it, the robe was better than nothing. So he dons Harvey's large fluffy dark-blue bathrobe and saunters into the living room like he owns the place. Fake it until he believes it, that was the game plan. He goes straight for the couch, crashing on it, uncaring if the robe parted slightly over his legs. Biking to work nearly every day make him confident in at least one aspect of his body. He grabbed the nearest file and skimmed through it. It was what Harvey was working on earlier.

"Mike, are you finished?" Harvey's voiced echoed from somewhere in the recess of his apartment.

"Yeah. In the living room!" Mike shouts back. He puts the file back in the stack and goes to search for his own portion of the documents to work on. They would change court later when they've finished to double-check if the other had missed anything. It's saved them more times than they were both willing to admit. It was a good solid system that was founded on mutual trust.

"You better not be dripping on my couch or you----" Harvey stops mid-step, Nathan walking on wobbly legs beside him. "Why are you wearing my robe?"

Mike shrugged. "Natie-nate ruined my pants too." he said, brushing the entire thing off like he wore Harvey's clothes on a daily basis. That was surely not happening because no matter how hard he tried, Harvey's shoulder were impossibly wide and he was naturally a slim-frame. "I can take if off if you'd rather have me prancing around waving my dong at the kid. No harm, no foul. I have nothing that either of you don't already have."

Harvey clenches his jaw tight. "You're having it dry-cleaned before you return it."

"Extra-bleach?" Mike asks, getting comfortable on the sofa. Why did he hinder himself from enjoying this lush softness earlier? He was, admittedly, not the smartest guy at time, however rare they were. "Hi Natie-nate, are you feeling better?"

"Mah!" Nathan giggles, running into Mike's leg at full-speed, then laughing like he was the happiest kid on earth.

"Easy there, Nate. You might hurt yourself. Didn't Uncle Harvey teach you not to run?" Mike chastise the toddler then looks up at Harry. "Oh right. Your Uncle doesn't know how to teach anything, doesn't he? He's just a big _old_ meanie." he says laughing. Nathan giggles some more before climbing up to snuggle on Mike's side on the couch.

"You are awfully good with children." Harry says but Mike can hear the question behind it.

"Kids and old people. Not much different when you think about it." Mike replies. "They have the same needs---to be cared for with a little extra patience and a little more affection. Except that the lack of teeth is cute on babies but on in old people" he continues laughing. "I spent a lot of my days around the older generation when Grammy was still alive. I used to be able to go there thrice a week before... you know, the whole _Trevor-weed-gangster_ thing happened. So..."

Harvey frowns, stepping close to Mike. "I---I did..." but Mike waves him off.

"It's fine, Harvey." Mike says. "I think Grammy is in a much better place now. She once told me that she'll get one of those fancy high-rise condos in the afterlife because all her good deeds will merit something when she crosses over." he tries to laugh it off and if Harvey did see the moisture in Mike's eyes, Harvey did not say anything about it. "Let's get over the documents. Looks like I'll be staying here the night. Do you have a spare suit I can borrow for tomorrow's meeting with Donohue?"

"I'll have Ray pick-up something from Rene"

Mike just nods and goes back to reading. "Is there anything interesting for a two-year old to do here?" he asks, later when Nathan gets bored and becomes restless again. The toddler is squirming on Mike's lap, clearly seeking some kind of attention. "Because I may be a fast reader but, to be honest, the kid's a little distracting."

"Why don't you bring Nathan to be for a while? Switch? So you finish your work" Harvey suggest, patting his knee as he reclines on a large arm-chair. "It can't be too bad, right? I'll give him my phone and he can play with the buttons. It's locked anyway."

Mike laughs. "Okay" he agrees. He stands up, Nathan balanced in the circle of his arms and passes him to Harvey. It surprises him, really, how in such a short span of time a feeling of familiarity wraps around them. Their fingers touch for the briefest moment as he was handing Nathan to Harvey and, he swear, there was a jolt of electricity from the contact. Mike forces himself to brush it off like he's been doing all morning with Harvey then goes back to his spot on the sofa.

After that, Mike was able to get into his headspace. They worked on their documents for an unknown amount of time. Mike's swept through his boxes of the Donohue files. His eyes are tired and his back is sore from his bad posture. So he stretches his arms up high, cracking the locked joints and getting the blood flowing back into his unused limbs. It takes him more time than it should to notice that Harvey was breathing evenly on the armchair beside him. The older man looks like he's been down on the count for a while.

Harvey's face, when sleep, looks almost angelic. Mike has seen that look once or twice before but only in short glimpses. Now he stares at Harvey's face with unabashed reverence. The furrow on his forehead is completely gone, the crow's feet on his eyes have disappeared, and the frown lines on the corners of his mouth are nowhere to be seen. Asleep, Harvey looks and feels like he is ten years younger, instantly. There is no constant state of worry in his mind about another pending case or a difficult client, he looks--as clichéd as it sounds--at peace.

Mike stares as his boss, longer than he would admit even to himself. Or rather, he was too afraid to admit it to himself. He cared for Harvey. How could he not? The man had single-handedly brought him back to the right path and that was not easy task. Mike knew he was hard-headed and stubborn, almost as insufferable as Harvey. But the man taught him that when there was a gun to his head, he should take the gun and bring out a bigger one. And they've done exactly that time and time again.

He can do that right now. He can jump into his deeply-repressed feelings. The feelings that he has continuously been trying to bury since they first met in the Chilton. The feelings he did not want to acknowledge when he kissed Jenny. The feelings that forced him into the affair with Tess. The feelings that overwhelmed him with guilt and cause him to end things with Rachel. He could choose to admit those feeling right now and hope, in the one in a billion chance, that Harvey might not completely disown him from Pearson Spector and in Harvey's life. He can definitely do that is he was a better man.

Or he can do one of the hundred and forty-six other things, those which he hasn't tried yet over their years of friendship, camaraderie, and brotherhood. He can continue to be a coward because he is too damn scared of the single most important person in his life, the only one he's every truly trusted, his anchor and arrow to the world he lives in. Because there is about fifty more things on his list that he can still work with. He has not exhausted all his option, not yet. All he needs to do is suck it up and keep his stupid secret, a secret.

Harvey has paraded more women than the number of days in a week. He's a strong, confident, successful, heterosexual man. He's got a good sense of right from wrong without equating it to good and bad. He's become a name-partner in a firm along with his mentor. He knows every important person in the city, not to mention the world. He's too good for the likes of one lowly Mike Ross. It was nothing short of a miracle from God.

Mike's only chance was to keep their status-quo with their out-of-the-ordinary mentor-mentee, master-slave, partner-associate relationship.  

***

"Mike" was the first thing that came to Harvey's head when he returned to the land of the consciousness. 'Nathan' was next and 'Donohue' was a very close third. He cracked his eyes open and looked around. Mike was nowhere in sight and so was Nathan. The Donohue files were re-packed and put back into their respective boxes, which were arranged neatly at the foot of the couch. The coffee table was free of any bottles, or markers, or post-its that were used while they were going through the research materials. The only thing left was a single folder with a post-it saying 'smoking gun' in Mike's chicken-scrawl.

He sat up, letting the thick blanket fall off his shoulder. A blanket which he has no recollection of retrieving from the guestroom.

"Mike?" he called out a second time, louder and less raspy. "Mike!"

"In the guestroom!" he hears Mike's voice and, instantly, he lets go of the breath that he was unaware of holding. He followed Mike's voice into the spare room. "Shhh!" Mike tells him as he walks inside. His associate was leisurely laid on one side, head propped against his arm, as he curled around a smaller body that was sprawled in the middle of the bed. "I just got him to settle down. Keep quiet."

Harvey bites his lip. He hopes that it will mask the affection blossoming from his chest at this very moment. He simply nods and carefully lays down on the other side of the bed. Together, they bracket Nathan's body in a small nest of protection. Mike give him a lazy smile as he continues to pat Nathan gently on the thigh. "What time is it?" he asks because he was too sleep-hazed to check.

"A little after seven. I wiped him down and game him a bottle. He was out-cold in minutes." Mike tells him like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Hungry?"

Harvey's stomach answers for him. "I can go make something in the kitchen." The sides of Mike's lips twitch at that. "I do. Just not often. I'll make bacon" he suggests.

"That's breakfast food." Mike points out.

"Bacon is bacon" Harvey argues without real steel. "Crispy Bacon"

Mike, the cocky kid, has the audacity to chuckle. "Does that mean that I don't breakfast?" he asks in the flirtatious way he can without things getting awkward. To be honest, Harvey's pretends not to notice how flirtatious Mike can really be. He pretends not to notice anything at all.

Mike is long lines, laid out on his bed. Harvey's large fluffy bathrobe is two sizes too big for him. Harvey cannot stop his wandering eyes. He zeroes in on the large expanse of chest exposed to through the deep neckline, and almost stares into the dusty nipple peaking right below the fabric. One of Mike's legs was flaunted, robe draped like a statue over Mike's pale legs, showing of his long lean muscles and the velvety-looking upper thigh. He can feel his mouth salivating at the display. Then he teases and Harvey has half the mind to kiss those rosy red lips right then and there.

The realization of his fantasies rattle him.

Fuck, he curses so loud in his head that he's afraid Mike might hear him thinking. When did he have fantasies about his not-so-skinny associate? Since when? He was Harvey _fucking_ Specter and he was a lover of women. He shakes the thoughts out of his head. "Let's talk about breakfast tomorrow" is the best cohesive sentence he can make before he bolts out of the room like a man being chased by fire.

He makes quick work of de-freezing the bacon, heating up his largest skillet, and cooking. It's the only thing that is distracting him from having not-so-innocent thoughts about a _man_ more than a decade his junior, who was _almost_ naked on _his_ guest bed, and looked like he _wanted_ to be fucked into next Monday. Hell, he looked like he would _beg_ for it. Harvey groaned, hands gripping the counter so tight that his knuckles turned white.

"Harvey?" Mike's voice cuts through his thoughts like knife through soft butter. Mike steps into view seconds later, visibly surprised. "You're making bacon?"

Harvey puts on his best straight face given the circumstance aka the massive boner he had for the man standing not more than four feet away from him."No, I'm making Mac and Cheese. What does it look like, rookie?"  He pretended like he was busying himself with making no-nonsense bacon when in reality he was willing away the hard problem that was tenting through his sweatpants. Of all the times to have an active libido, his body chooses this embarrassing moment.

"Oh" Mike says from behind him, sounding a little bit hurt at his tone. "Okay. Uhm, I think it's safe to say that Nate will be sleeping asleep until tomorrow morning. Or at least until dawn at the earliest. The trip here must have exhausted his little body."

Harvey nods, non-committal.

"I found our smoking gun." Mike says, leaning over the breakfast counter timidly. "One of the fund managers had been siphoning small increments from share owners. Small amounts; only a few cents at a time. Almost of no value but if he's been doing it to all the stock owners. It amounts to a couple billion dollars a year in total."

"That's brilliant, Mike. Good work." Harvey replies, still refusing to turn around.

Mike frowns. "You know, I've gotten the kid to sleep, I found the smoking gun. You don't have to force yourself to cook food for me because I can to that myself" he huffs. "I don't know what crawled up your ass but if you're going to insist on being indifferent for the rest of the night. I would much rather where my soiled ratty suit home. The subway is still open."

"Mike" Harvey starts "That's not"  

"That's not what, Harvey?" Mike presses. "Because you might have dragged my sorry ass out of the gutter but I have proven myself time and time against that I am a valuable asset to your firm. But you _keep_ on treating me like I'm still the pot-smoking kid you met all those years ago. You made me a _fricking_ _nanny_ to a kid that you barely even know!"

"Mike!" Harvey hisses just to force Mike's ranting to a halt. Then he let's go. He allows every single fear, every single emotion, and every single thing he has felt and is feeling for the man standing in his island window and wearing his navy blue bathrobe like it was a raincoat. "Mike" he says again, willing the younger man to look into his eyes and read everything that he cannot say aloud.

Then "oh" Mike says. There's a moment when Harvey thinks that he's got it all wrong, that maybe he read the situation wrong, that perhaps Mike was naturally flirtatious by nature. It might have all been a figment of his imagination; Mike's doesn't see him as more than just a boss or another friend. But then realization melts into Mike's features and he says "really?"

Harvey could merely respond with a nod. His eyes travels to Mike's chewed-upon lips, then up to his infinitely blue eyes. He smirks at him, apologetically. "Come here" he says and Mike obediently follows, tucking into his side like he was always meant to be there. There's a slight hesitation in his movements but Harvey slots their hips together and whatever doubts that Mike has in his head becomes inconsequential. Nothing else matters, there was just the two of them of the entirety of space and time.

Harvey brings their lips closer, mouth parted and slightly damp, ghosting over Mike's. He gives Mike time to decline, time to pull away, time to keep this from being a massive jump from colleagues to lowers. Mike closes the gap between them and they take the inevitable leap together.  

Harvey automatically encircles Mike in his arms, one hand burying in the short mess of blond hair and the other is tight around his waist. Mike's arms clutch into his forearms, so hard, that he can feel the crescent-shaped indentations that Mike is carving into his skin. Harvey's tongue swipes across Mike's chapped lips, tasting the copper before he slips inside, licking his way into the crevices of Mike's mouth. Mike accepts his tongue willingly, opening his mouth and letting their tongues dance together.

Mike sees a smile spread across Harvey's face. He kisses Harvey for the second time. It's softer, sweeter, slower than the previous one. This kiss wasn't urgent. It was--almost loving. He kisses Harvey like he would kiss a long lost lover who he has not seen and has almost given up on finding.

Harvey can feel Mike's blood thrumming under his fingers. It echoes the beating of his own heart. They breath together, foreheads pressed. He is holding onto Mike's face with both hands now, allowing it to anchor him to this precise moment. He burns every single detail into memory because, unlike his younger partner, it takes much observation for the memory to be clearly remembered.  

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to be working on my other story [Value at Risk](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4964131) but my nephew crawled onto my lap and this story was born. Sorry for all those who were waiting for the other one. I've already gotten the next chapter underway, I'll get it out soon (I hope). 
> 
> I did, initially, want Nathan to stay for a week but it felt unfair for Harvey and Mike to prolong their agony any longer. It was supposed to be a 'falling in love' story but then it turned into a _we've been obliviously attracted to one another but we keep on denying that we're gay until this all happened_ story.
> 
> [ **Got a prompt?** ](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/)


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